Page 34 of Web of Lies
"That sounds wonderful," I say, shooting him a small smile. "While I love how you protected me, this was way past acceptable."
"I got carried away." He sighs and tilts his head. I look up and meet his gaze. His usually sharp and attentive brown eyes are clouded with a hint of guilt.
"You really did," I say, studying his face, which remains without a shift in expression. "Are you sure everything is okay?"
"Yes." He leans closer and presses a soft kiss on my temple. "I'm just having a bad day with my temper." His lips brush against my skin as he speaks.
"I can tell," I murmur, resting my head on his shoulder. I bring my drink to my lips again and take a sip. Closing my eyes, I savor the rum burning down my throat.
My heart drums in my chest, and a flock of butterflies buzzes in my stomach. I'm not sure if the sensation is from the adrenaline or from the way Kyle looked at Ronan. Even though I've never liked seeing violence up close, the way he reacted—so jealous and possessive—stirs something deep inside my chest. Maybe I'm not wrong. Maybe I'm not fooling myself. The flicker of hope I've been trying to ignore claws at the back of my mind, and for tonight, I will allow myself to dream that he feels the same way as I do.
After finishing our drinks, we say goodbye to the bartender and step out onto the street. Despite it being summer, the late-night air feels cool against my skin in sharp contrast to the warmth pulsing through my limbs. We walk down the sidewalk toward the parking lot. The pavement is a fuzzy blur beneath my feet.
I cling to Kyle, my steps a little too slow and unsteady, my fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket for support. The second drink is hitting me a lot harder than I expected. My muscles are like jelly, and if Kyle weren't holding me up, mylegs would give out beneath me. Everything around me starts to bleed together: the neon signs and car lights melting with every blink.
"Is my place okay, Baby?" Kyle murmurs, his breath warm and comforting against my skin. The low rumble of his voice vibrates in my ears, rattling through my chest and down my spine.
"Yes." I nod, struggling to stay alert.
Kyle lets out a chuckle. The sound is equal parts comforting and dangerous as he pulls me closer. "You good?"
"Yes," I slur, the words tumbling off my lips.
As we step into the parking lot, the car's lights flash to life with a soft beep. Kyle pulls open the passenger side door and helps me into the seat, carefully guiding me down like I might break. He pulls the seatbelt across me and clicks it into place, brushing a strand of hair from my face with his knuckles.
"You gonna be good for me tonight?" he asks, crouching down beside me. "Do you want me to take care of you?" I turn my head to the side and meet his gaze, his face a muddled image.
"Yes," I breathe out. "Please."
"Is anything off-limits?" he asks again, this time quieter.
"No," I whisper.
"That's what I like to hear." His hand lands on my thigh, and his fingers thread through the mesh of my tights, brushing against my bare skin. My breath catches, and heat pools low in my abdomen. He leans in, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth. "We'll be home soon, Baby. Just sit back and let me handle everything."
He shuts the door, and I watch through drooping eyelids as he circles around the car and climbs into the driver's seat. He starts the engine, and the car rolls backward as he backs out of the parking lot.
I lean my head back against the seat. My limbs grow heavy, and the car’s gentle rocking and the soft hum of the engine lullme deeper into the pull of exhaustion until I fully surrender to the darkness.
Chapter 17
Riley
The black fog clouding my senses dissolves. Awareness creeps back in, and I expect a pounding headache, a sour taste on my tongue, and the overwhelming effects of a hangover, but none of it comes. Instead, there's stillness—an unnatural calm. My body feels weightless, like floating.
"Kyle?" My voice is hoarse, more breath than sound. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and my throat is as dry as a desert.
My eyes flutter open, and I catch sight of my blurry reflection in the mirrored ceiling, staring back at me. Gradually, my vision clears. The moment my reflection comes into focus, my heart rate spikes and adrenaline pumps through my veins, burning away the remnants of drowsiness.
Red ropes snake around my naked limbs in what appears to be a carefully arranged pattern. They cut into my skin, but it doesn't hurt. My arms are pinned behind my back, and my legs are bent and spread wide, leaving me fully exposed. With a small jerk, I attempt to move, but the ropes resist and keep me in place. Instead, my body sways slowly back and forth.
"Kyle?" I call out again, louder this time.
"Finally awake, Freckles?" The familiar voice comes from nearby. My gaze searches the mirror for him, but he's nowhere to be found.
"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice high-pitched and tinged with panic and something dangerously close to excitement.
"Relax. I haven't touched you yet." A low chuckle echoes through the otherwise quiet room. "You know, I enjoy somnophilia; we have rules in place for it. But I'm not doing anything while my baby is drugged."
